


Immortal Beloved

by Daryl_Alenko



Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, M/M, POV Jack Harkness, Pining, Unrequited Love, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:00:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4965292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl_Alenko/pseuds/Daryl_Alenko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Musing on an unrequited love that will live forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immortal Beloved

**Author's Note:**

> Transplanted fic. Another one I love as a character study.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

Cardiff, Wales… May 08, 2009. The world has moved on, every man woman and child changed by the Machiavellian schemes of Davros. The night sky will never be the same to the residents of Earth. Every time a human glances up at the vast night sky, glances into the celestial heavens of space, they will feel a shiver down their spine, and paranoia will kick in. Who will be waiting for us this time, prepared to pounce upon our undefended planet?

And to each and every one of those people… I laugh in your pathetic, upturned faces. The Earth is protected, guarded by the greatest being to ever walk our humble little planet. Indeed, almost every planet out there! To the people of the Earth, I would introduce the Lonely God, if he would ever allow such a thing. It’s funny, thinking about that goofy, lanky man that was not a man, but an alien. To look at him, you’d think a stiff breeze would knock him off his dusty old Converse, and leave him broken and defeated. But no, not the poor, disillusioned godling of Time. My friend… my best friend, actually, and the one being I have ever been in love with.

Don’t get me wrong, I have -loved- so many men and women through out my many years… loved them for their beauty, their warmth… the way they laughed, or the way they cried. I have loved men for being soft and gentle, others for being strong and stubborn. I have loved women who could dance, others who could not even boast two left feet. I have loved alien and human alike, finding pleasure and happiness for whatever brief moments I had with them. But eventually, time moved on, as did I… fleeing their beds in search of bright new horizons and sweet new faces.

Even pretty, smart, efficient little Ianto have I loved. Fiercely. He is so very strong, yet willowy and soft. He bends to my will, but is also stubborn enough to call me on my stupidity. But other times, he scares me. I see him looking at me, and I can almost read the calculation in his fierce gaze… eyes that drink in every detail and file it away for future use. He looks at me as if he is waiting for something… and that is when the guilt becomes damn near unbearable. Because I can never give Ianto Jones what he wants. If you are not in possession of your own heart, how can you give it to another? And my heart has not been my own for over 100 years. My body? Sure, unfortunately. But my heart, my soul? No, that was stolen long ago, when we were both just men… not the Immortal and the Time Lord, the Doctor and the Captain. Just men exploring Time and Space, laughing and lamenting together.

Even now, I can remember it as if it were yesterday. Rose dangling with the British flag tight across her chest. Fear, adrenaline and innocence creasing features that were already too old for her tender years. She was no less beautiful, though, a pure blood damsel in distress. How could I possibly pass that up? I was Captain Jack Harkness, conman and closet Knight in Shining Armor. That’s right, I held the most romantic of dreams in my tarnished little heart. I longed to find some fairytale ending with love, happiness, honor… all of those old fashioned concepts long since drained from the human race, even in this early century.

When I walked into that hallway and slid my hand into the Doctor’s, my heart stopped, my mouth went dry, and I feared that he would see right through me to the scared child I was when I first signed up for the Time Agency trying to escape the loss of my brother and the contempt of my widowed mother. With that one handshake, my entire reality was stripped away and force fed back to me. I had to contemplate the creature I had become, as apposed to the creature I saw I could be reflected in his eyes as ancient, cruel, and utterly beautiful as the Time Winds themselves.

Instead, however, I clung to the remnants of my carefully constructed lie. I forced myself to treat that big eared alien like every other hot bit of tail I had ever met. (Really, his ears were -huge-, like he was half Ferengi or something!) If I relegated him to the category of hopeful one night stand, then I could forget the bitter self realization he unwittingly forced me into. And it worked, too! It, partnered with the threat of eminent death that was all my own damn, selfish fault, helped me forget the fact that my heart fluttered and vision tunneled every time that big eared alien opened his mouth and allowed that snarky North accent out. (Honestly, “lot’s of planets have a North?” Yes, I could see that line working on Rose.. But me? As if…)

Cardiff is quiet tonight, the lights fluttering on the waves of the Bay, creating Technicolor light shows that I can see so perfectly from my vantage point atop the Millennium Centre. I feel like a voyeur spying on a city I can never truly be a part of. I am no longer human, I feel it in every part of me these days. I’m the ’Man that can never die,’ how could I possibly be human? Am I something more, something less? These are questions I should have asked the Doctor when I had the chance.

Ahh, the Doctor. I speak of him, think of him, carry his memory like a double edged blade deep in my shriveled heart. But never could I fully explain the draw of the Alien. You would have to meet him for yourself. (Wait… I take that back. Please, if you’re a blond female, stay -well- away from him… give some of us poor, non blond saps a chance, yeah?) I should be in bed, or at least pretending I might have a half way decent shot at true, restful sleep. But the nightmares… the screams… it’s all just too much.

I finally understand what the Doctor meant when he turned to me with those woeful eyes and said that he didn’t need sleep. That the pain, the nightmares were just too much. Of course, back then, I thought I was a well seasoned vet, and couldn’t possibly understand what kind of nightmares could be that bad. But that’s life with the Doctor, one miraculous nightmare after another. Some how, though, life aboard that sentimental old police box is still better than any life I’ve ever known, despite the danger, the death, and all that damn running.

But the Tardis is out there somewhere, among the stars, and I am grounded right here on this little bitty planet of selfish, cruel, wonderful beings. At least I’m not completely isolated from my ‘element,’ I have Torchwood and the Hub. The Central Hub… the only place in all of existence where I feel -normal-. Martha once asked me if I ever leave the place for any reason not work related. And promptly told me to bite my tongue when she realized a very sexual, cheeky remark was forming.

And none of them see it… the fact that I -struggle- to make the over the top comments they all want from me. I no longer crack sexual jokes at the drop of a pin, or throw myself at the closest bit of pretty around. It is almost painful, sometimes, trying to maintain the façade that I am still actually a part of this silly little world. But I’m not. I’ve never been. No, the true me, the living bit of me, is still sailing the stars in that beat up old blue box. The rest of me, stuck here in Cardiff, is simply fading away.

So why then did I dismiss the Doctor’s offer to travel with him after The Year That Never Was? Because… he cried for the Master, then offered me a position in his life as if it were a friendly after thought. Because, he betrayed me when he ran off with Rose and left me all alone, confused and hurt on Satellite Five. Can you imagine it, boys and girls? Waking up -knowing- that you died, the after taste of electricity and seared flesh fresh on your swollen tongue? Oh, and the stench! The atmo was steadily pumping out the smell of burned flesh, sweat, and the metallic burn of Dalek dust. Then, to hear the sound of your salvation slowly fading away, leaving you behind like a bad memory??

The Doctor betrayed me the day he left me alone on the Satellite, struggling to return from the insanity of realizing that I was dead, and yet… alive, somehow. He ran off with pretty little bright eyed Rose, threw me aside like yesterday’s old news. And I may never forgive him for that. Even now, when I sleep, I hear that sound: The metallic whine of the Tardis as it dematerialized from Five, leaving me choking on bitter sobs and rancid Dalek dust. I should have expected it, really. I was tolerated because Rose thought I was a cute little pet. And every Deity knows that the light of the Universe itself exists for the whims of the silly little Earth Child. (Or at least -He- thinks so.) She was the one destined for the alien with two hearts. I was just… tolerated. And maybe that is the biggest betrayal of all.

So, what did I do? The most spiteful, petty thing I could think of. The most -Human-. I hurt him. Not once, but twice. I turned my back on the man I am in love with. Not once, but twice. When he asked me to come with him in Cardiff, I almost did just that. But then I remembered the taste of ash and tears upon my burning tongue… the fragile, erratic beating of my heart when the Tardis left, and I did the only thing I could. I walked away. And I will regret it until the day I die for the final time. Because Fact or not, I will eventually breakdown beyond the ability to return… I hope. The Universe is beautiful, glorious, but already I am growing weary of it. Again, I guess I now know how the Time Lord feels. My poor, sweet, compassionate Doctor. He does not realize it, but he is being destroyed by the very thing he strives to protect.

And I fear I may be aiding that destruction. A second chance… I was given a second chance at the life I crave with all that I am, and I turned him down yet again. I walked away again… will he ever be able to forgive me? Hell, -I- wouldn’t even forgive me. To have walked away, -abandoned- him… because in the long run, this second time, that is exactly what I have done. I abandoned the man I am in love with because I was afraid of what would happen. Rose was back, and no matter how I try to interpret it, there is but one bit of truth I must always admit: I am not Rose. The Doctor loves Rose. Therefore, he cannot love -me-. And that is a burden I will bare until the end of time… and I will bare it in silence.

After all, is that not what love is? Always loving the one who has your heart, even if it must be done in silence, from afar. And I do see him… I do. I see every picture, read every tale… every scrap of information that might somehow be tied to my wayward Time Lord, I memorize. It does not lessen the pain, does not warm me in the dark, bleak winters. In some ways, those bits of information are anathema… loathsome knowledge that wounds me to the quick. But at least it means I am feeling -something-. In those moments when I bitterly, lovingly gaze across an article about a mysterious, trenched man involved in a miraculous event that has altered the lives of people forever, I can forget about Ianto, Torchwood and the piss poor job I am doing in running it.. I can forget that I am a ruination of a man, a remnant clinging to an existence that has long since left me numb to the humanity I once belonged to. In that one moment, no matter how brief, I am just a angry man in love with the greatest man to ever live… the man that betrayed me.

In those cold, painful moments I can curse his name, or title, however you wish to look at it. I can bitterly spit the word Doctor from my tongue like a vile thing and pretend that it is all his fault I am the way I am. But that is a lie and no one knows it better than I. In those moments, I hate myself with all that I am, and I seriously consider that strange, morbid theory that always rests in the dark, deep corridors of my mind. A black hole… the cancellation of all matter, factual or other wise. Could that do the trick, once and for all? Would I be able to end as I should have all those years ago when I tried to do the right thing for a change?

Captain Jack Harkness steps closer to the edge of the Millennium Centre roof. So many nights he haunts this rooftop, when there are no eminent dangers threatening the peaceful lives of those living below. Once, they lived in ignorance, suffering the Sunnydale Syndrome. Though it happened right above them, right in their faces, in their homes, all over the world, they continued to spout that the alien threats were some hoax, terrorism, etc. But not anymore. Now, they must stand up and take notice of the fact that they are nothing more than a single speck of dust in the vast Universe.

And as Jack stands there, his WWII coat billowing in the lazy night breeze, he knows that he is little more than the same. He is a single group of molecules in the whole of Time and Space. And as he looks down at the roof he has prowled for so very long, he cannot help but wonder. If he could pitch over the side, if he could just fall to his doom, would he do so? Or would he choose immortality all over again? It is a painful question, and one he does not think he will ever answer.

**“I could jump… the feeling of falling would last an infinity in the space of mere seconds, and I would be free for a while.”**

Jack’s words are the bastard child of regret, sorrow, and guilt. He walked away from the man he is in love with, but in truth, the Doctor walked away first. Of course, this thought brings a laugh so bitter it is scary, terrifying, almost, in it’s absolution. He takes a single step closer, debris skittering over the edge of the building to fall to the ground. One more step, a pitch of his bulk and he would plummet to his death. Just a few minutes without pain, sorrow, anguish. A few minutes of quietness, of darkness and death. And how pathetic is it that he longs for that fall? He almost breaks his own rule and allows his kissable lips to move in prayer. He almost prays to a God he has no faith in to grant him the strength and courage to fall. 

**“And you wouldn’t save me, would you, Doctor? You wouldn’t be here to catch me… you never are. Just once, that’s all it would’ve taken. Just once! If you would have looked at me just -once- the way you looked at her…”**

The words are a sorrowful lament sang to the very heavens themselves, the sound of traffic vaguely filling the air around a man who is struggling just to take his next breath. They say you can die of a broken heart, and it is true enough. For here stands Captain Jack Harkness, an immortal slowly dying of a broken heart. Love’s bitch, death’s Master… and the Doctor’s unloved best friend… or so he believes…

* * *

Deep in the heart of the Medusa Cascade, two words remain for all eternity. Removed from Time, hidden from all prying eyes, these two words will live on forever.

So very far away, the Last of the Time Lords stands before a hunk of living machinery. It is lit with vibrant colors, every spectrum in existence twinkling, glittering, shimmering. His handsome, tired features are bathed in their brilliance and it does little more than strip away the facade of youth and allow a glimpse at the ancient, tired, hearts broken being that lay within. The Lonely God… the Oncoming Storm… the Other, John Smith… The Doctor. So many names, so many falsehoods given in place of his true title. Sometimes, even he forgets the name that he was given at birth… the name that is his and his alone.

So long ago now, it was hidden away for safe keeping, written in the unbelievable, unique beauty of the Medusa Cascade. There, it could be removed from Time altogether, hidden from everyone but himself, and the one who was present when it was written there. But that was someone he could not think about. Some wounds never heal and the Master would forever be his. His best friend, his first love… but not his last. No, never his last.

Fingers, hooked like trembling claws, pass across the rigged surface of his beloved life partner… the living ship that had been to the end of the Universe and back with him. She was his oldest and only constant companion, but long before they became partners, she lost her ability to speak. Never has he heard her voice, seen her avatar, but still she has always brought him comfort. But soon, he would be beyond even that great sweetness. Soon, not even the humming thrum of the Tardis heart would be enough to stave off the madness that was creeping across the edge of his mind. He had thought, no… hoped, -prayed- that he had finally found the answer to his loneliness. The one being that could give him forever, could love him and allow him to give his infinite, unconditional love in return.

But no, even Jack was gone now, tired of his inability to speak up and ask for what he wanted, -needed-. He was too busy playing the savior of the Universe, putting the universal need above his own each and every time. In the end, of course, Jack could not compete with the entire universe and did the only thing he could: walked away. Twice. And each time, he took one of the Doctor’s hearts with him. The Time Lord was now reduced to a husk of human like tissue, blood forcefully pumping, neurons instinctively firing… hearts dead, useless, gone. One day, some world in peril will look up, crying out for him, their Savior, their Lord of Time… and he would not come. He would turn his back upon them and seek his own salvation: death. If the Master could escape without regenerating, then so too could he one day.

As he looks out into the dancing Time Winds of the Medusa Cascade, he knows that someday is sooner than even he suspects. With a pained smile he sees it, two words blasted into the pattern of the Winds themselves. His true name, hidden away, removed from Time. His hand slides lovingly across the heated metal panel of the Tardis console. His eyes close slowly, bitter tears bathing his cheek in a single streak of salt water. His fingers tremble, his breath hitching painfully in his chest until he is forced to dig as deep as he can to continue the very act of breathing. His free hand lifts, pressing into his side, giving himself a half hug. But that is not what he is actually doing. No, his hand presses harder into his side, desperately trying to keep the imaginary seams from bursting, desperately struggling just to hold himself together.

Fingers smash into the buttons before he can persuade himself not to… or better yet, and more truthfully, before he does fall apart. One had mirrors the other, both palms biting into the clothed flesh of his sides as he struggles to keep breathing, to function. He can feel himself falling apart, the seams bursting, the loneliness overtaking him…

“Jack…”

That single word is spoken as if it is -the- word… the source of all Salvation. And to the last of the Time Lords, that is exactly what that word is. The Tardis shudders, her engines whining, hissing and creaking as she struggles to launch the burst of energy through the Cascade.

Deep in the heart of the Medusa Cascade, four words remain for all eternity. Removed from Time, hidden from all prying eyes, these four words will live on forever, bound together in memory, even if they cannot be bound together in reality.

**Theta Sigma … … … Immortal Beloved**


End file.
